


because edna mode thinks boob windows are stupid

by Bauliya



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: F/F, M/M, gang goes to new york, this is because momo's outfit is terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bauliya/pseuds/Bauliya
Summary: Shouto applies for a fashion internship, just wanting to get out of Japan for the summer.Little does he know that an inspiration starved designer will look at a chance to get some decent muses and take it.
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto
Comments: 12
Kudos: 188
Collections: Creative Chaos Discord Recs, No Capes!





	because edna mode thinks boob windows are stupid

Boring. Boring. BORING. Ugh. ANOTHER NYU graduate with a reference letter from Daddy and details about her instagram account, as if that _matters_ , “This is a FASHION internship!” Edna’s tired. Edna’s sick. She just wants an intern. A capable, non-vapid intern that isn’t a Kardashian copy with millionaire parents. Is that too much to ask? Is it? 

She sighs, wistful. Down to the last two candidates. 

And. 

“Wait.” 

UA. 

“Oh _yes_.” 

—

“Uh, Izuku? Remember that support internship I applied for?” 

“Did you get in?” 

“Yeah,” Shouto scratches his head, “Looks like we _all_ did.” 

—

Izuku loves Edna Mode, and he has nothing to do over the vacations. Momo accepts Shouto’s offer, as does Jirou. Katsuki blasts his door and announces _he’s going, icyhot, you got that?_ while Kirishima waves behind him, sheepish. So it’s the six of them, three days into summer break, piling onto a limo to Edna Mode’s estate, their silver briefcased costumes in the trunk. 

“I. Am. So. Excited!” Momo says, “God, I loved her winter collection! Do you think she’ll let us try some on?” 

“Um,” Shouto says. 

“I hope she lets us try it on. You know she doesn’t use sample sizes, right? I’ll find something that fits.” 

Katsuki scoffs, looking out the window, “ _No,_ she makes them bespoke for the models. It’ll be unlikely.” 

Shouto faces him. “I forgot,” He says, “You’re a fan.” 

“I AM NOT.” 

“We’re here,” Izuku says, unravelling. He’s sitting as far as he can from Shouto. It’s unintentional. It is. 

“Is it them, dear?” Drawls a nasally, robotic tone. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Come _inside_.” 

Shouto watches over the lawned hill, and looks at the mansion perched atop it. Inside, it’s gleaming marble, and screens seamlessly melting into the concrete. Kirishima whistles, impressed. 

“I have been waiting!” 

They look down. 

“Oh my god, Ms. Mode, I, I’m such a fan—”

“How BRILLIANT!” She cuts Izuku off, flitting around them, admiring. “How young, how fresh, oh my, _look at you_ ,” She says, and takes Izuku’s hand, “Hm. We’ll have to do something about that.”

“Welcome,” Mode beams, and smiles something predatory, “ _Young gods!_ ” 

“You must be so terribly hungry, it’s very early, but you must understand, work must begin quick!” 

They’re walking through hallways, too quick to take them in. 

“Your winter collection, Ms. Mode, I—” 

“Oh, don’t remind me, _darling_ , trash, honestly. Outdated. Boring. Commercial. _Haute couture,_ pah! All the same business, _chasing celebrities_. But recession comes for us all, dear, you must understand,” She says, “Perhaps you don’t, Ms. Yaoyorozu, not with your father’s company doing how it is, and, ah, here we are! Take a seat. Dig in.” 

They filter into the room, slowly, awkwardly. It’s all wall to ceiling windows, overlooking the grounds. A tiny river flows right across the room, koi glittering like jewels. What she’s talking about is the food laden circular table, just next to the table. Fruits, cheeses, salads, meats, artisanal loafs, and 

“I made sure they brought avocadoes, I know how you young ones adore it, I could never stand it, too grassy,” Mode says, hopping onto a chair. A pad and a pen materialises in her hands. They take their seats, uncertainly. 

“Um,” Shouto says, looking at everyone, “Uh, we thought. Is this an orientation? For the internship?”

“ _Internship?_ ” She says, “Oh, no. Oh no, no! You’re not my interns,” Edna peers in, “You’re my new muses!” Leans back, clicks the pen, “Shall we begin, then? Try the bread, darlings, it was baked thirty minutes ago.” 

—

The bread, indeed, is very good. Shouto makes himself another breakfast sandwich, with avocado and poached eggs. Momo passes him another freshly cut slice, and he toasts it over his palm. 

“Fascinating. Do you do that a lot?” 

“Toast bread?” 

“Use your quirk for.. Non-hero purposes.” 

Shouto shrugs. “Sure. It’s very convenient.” Edna makes another note. 

“I have studied all your quirks, dears, and I must say all your outfits are atrocious. Ugly. Inconvenient. But don’t worry, that’s what I am here for! I’ll provide you with clothing you deserve,” She says, clenching her fist in the air. 

“..they’re not that bad,” Momo says. Edna’s eyes narrows. 

“Yours provides no protection, at all. Basically a disaster waiting to happen. Limits your movement. Clunky. Makes you self conscious,” She turns to Shouto, “Yours is basic. Doesn’t. Even. Fit. Burns up easily.” Katsuki, “Ugly. I expected better from Bakugo’s kid.” He grumbles, but says nothing. Finally, she turns to Midoriya, “Now, where do I begin with yours.” 

“My mom made it.” 

She pauses. “Ah,” and then strikes through a few notes, “Well. We can still enhance it!” 

“I usually don’t do this because heroes never know what they want, or need, or what looks good, so you must be immensely grateful. Do you have any preferences? Any issues?” 

There’s a pause. 

“I’d like something more.. Covered.” 

“I know, darling, I know.” 

“I guess I could use better shoes,” Shouto says, “They slip on ice, and the soles melt easily.” 

“My sleeves are uncomfortable.” 

“Mhm.” 

Katsuki pouts. “My boosters are kinda bulky.” 

Edna smiles, snaps her pad close. “I think we’re done here!” She says, hopping off, not turning to look, “Edward will take you to your hotel! Your designs will be ready soon! Enjoy New York, everything’s billed to me, etc, etc.” 

Another pause. 

“Do we.. leave them here?” Jirou says, nodding her head towards the piled briefcases. 

Izuku shrugs. “I guess.” 

—

“Ay, stop here,” Katsuki says to Edward, a few blocks from the hotel. 

“You’re not going back?”

“Fuck no, you heard the lady,” He grabs Kirishima’s hand, “We’re gonna explore the city. You losers go on ahead.” 

“That’s.. Not such a bad idea.” 

“Icyhot, stop ruining my plans!” 

“Izuku?”

Izuku flushes, looks out the window. “Well,” He says, “I’ve.. always wanted to see the met museum?” Shouto smiles. 

“There’s a café I was planning on checking out,” Momo says, “You wanna come, Jirou?” 

“Sure.”

“And we can go to Broadway later. I think my dad can get us seats.” 

“I’d like to go to Broadway too,” Kirishima says, wistful.

“Well, I mean,” Momo tucks a strand behind her ears, “I can.. Probably get us tickets? Are you all in?” Izuku whoops. Shouto shrugs. Kirishima goes, _we’ll come_ , even though Katsuki stubbornly refuses to look. 

The Met is.. Nice, Shouto supposes. He’s never been artsy. Izuku, however, occasionally rushes over to a piece and starts going on and on about it, and it’s the cutest thing. He’s currently talking about plague imagery on late medieval art and Shouto simply sighs and leans against him, just a bit. 

They get a message, a couple hours in. A QR ticket and: HADESTOWN. 7:15. 

“Shouto, _look!_ ” He does. It’s a blank canvas, with tiny spatters of red in the corner. Shouto tilts his head. “It was made right at the edge of the transition to quirks. See. If you stare at it long enough, it looks like the red splatters streak out, make it pink.” 

“I see.” 

“It’s amazing.” 

Shouto looks at Izuku. “It is.” 

—

They get frothy lattes and stroll around central park, pointedly not touching their hands. Izuku plucks translucent mulberry from a tree, “Try this,” He says, “Careful. They’re delicate.” The fruit’s heavy with juice, and bursts almost as he touches it. 

“It’s good,” He says, the sweet juice filling his mouth, glistening his laps, “Thanks.”  
  


Izuku’s throat bobs. He looks away. 

After asking around a bit for directions, they end up at the hotel, just in time to shower and change for the show. 

Another limo comes to pick them up. 

“Jesus, Momo.” 

“Hey, you’re free to take a taxi,” Jirou says, sliding inside, “If this is too bougie for you.”

“She’s got a point, babe.” 

“You two went shopping?” Shouto asks. Momo’s wearing a slinky black gown, Jirou’s in leather boots. They nod. 

“Apparently she’s got quite the..” Jirou gently elbows her, “Relationship with fifth avenue, apparently.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Halfway through act two, Izuku slips his fingers with Shouto. They don’t look at each other. But their hands don’t move. 

—

Shouto sleeps in, almost doesn’t make it to breakfast. He piles his plate with toast and eggs and a lot of espresso (they have a coffee bar), and then goes swimming. There are a group of girls that giggle every time he laps close to where they’re lounging on the chairs. He winks at the blue-haired one, in the yellow frilly bikini. There are hoots, as he paddles ahead, movements smooth. 

He exits around noon, knowing full well that’s when Izuku wakes up. 

“Hey,” he says, “You missed breakfast.” 

Izuku yaws, stretches on his bed, “I know.” 

“Do you.. Want to go out to lunch? With me?” 

Izuku thinks. “Okay,” He says, “Let me change.” 

Lunch is a nearby café where Shouto orders at, because he knows Izuku will take one look at the prices and go _ah, just water, thanks_. 

“Why do you think she’s doing this? Edna?” 

“She hates fashion.”

“What?” 

“I mean,” Shouto says, “She hates fashion, for the sake of it. She wants functionality. And.. heroics. I only applied because I thought she’d like an intern from UA, you know. I didn’t expect her to design our suits.” 

“How do you know all this? She worked with your dad?” 

“My mom.” 

“Ah.” 

—

They go to Central Park again. This time, they sit underneath the Mulberry tree. Izuku has a book in his bag. Shouto keeps his head on his lap, smiling at the occasional stroke to his scalp. They sky soon turns purple, Izuku gasps and shuts the novel. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, just…” 

“Just?” 

Izuku whistles, “Thomas Cromwell like, got _called out_ by the king, holy shit.” 

He’s genuinely breathless, his eyes bright. Delighted. “Yeah?” 

Izuku launches into a rant, explaining a thousand something pages of story, just so Shouto can get the significance of nine lines of dialogue. As soon as he pauses to take a breath, Shouto leans up and presses their lips together. 

  
The sun sets. 

—

The next three days pass much the same. They go shopping, they have coffee, they kiss under their Mulberry tree, in hallways, in their rooms. One week in, they are each delivered letters in thick, cream envelopes. 

“Well,” Shouto says, reading a thick card with _It is done_ written in impeccable cursive, and _9 am_ at the back, “She’s certainly got style.” 

—

“Oh, darlings, welcome back, _welcome back_ , it’s been a _journey,_ oh my,” Edna mode scuttles ahead, not looking back, pressing odd and ends. They follow, towering behind her, cowering. She clenches her fist in victory, “but I have conquered! I have conquered this wave of inspiration I have never felt, mm. My best work ever, truly, absolute perfection, magnificence, oh, you will love it. Really, young heroes, to be a part of all your, mm, _foundings_ , your discovery, it is,” She turns, then, just to grin. Her eyes are lined with dark circles. “A _high_ , dears. An absolute high.” 

Passcode. Palm scan. “Edna mode, and guests.” 

They enter. Half the room is encased behind thick glass, and there’s a c-shaped couch facing it, set on a track. In the centre there’s a table, piled with lattés and little sandwiches. 

“Come in, come in, we’ll start with ladies, eh?” 

A mannequin slides in, behind the glass. The couch slides with it. The pants are black, plain, fitted, with knee length black spiked boots, ending in stylish knee pads. The shirt ends at the belly, is made of a silver-glittery material that winds around one arm and chest. Jirou whistles. 

“The pants are lycra and kevlar, bullet proof and can withstand _extremely. high. temperatures._ ” Guns prop up and shoot the mannequin, before the whole thing is blown up. The dress is unscathed, “The top, _dear_ , took me two whole days. It’s made of a special, silver, motile polymer,” The thing writhes as she says that, winding itself around the neck and shoulders, suddenly becoming a basic shirt, and then a bra, and then a knee length dress, “You can control it to become whatever design you wish, to give you space for your creations, while still providing you protection and coverage. They will simply shift around whatever you’re creating,” She says, “I’ll email you how it works. So you can make as much of it as you wish.” 

“Um, uh,” Momo is blinking, “That’s. Wow. _It’s perfect_. Thank you.” 

_Whizz_. They slide back. A shorter mannequin enters, decked out in a silver bodysuit, thigh length leather boots with about a hundred studded buckles covering the thigh, fingerless gloves with identical attached bracelets, and the same studded leather straps encircles the neck and the chest. 

“I fucking love it!” 

Edna grinned, “Oh, I know. It’s inspired by Queen and Prince, darling, just for you. Bulletproof, obviously, and those little studs can store the kinetic energy from your vibrations and deployed later,” Music blares in the cage. And then a few of the beads burst, when Edna presses the button. 

Back to the start. A male mannequin rolls in, a fitted blue bodysuit and a turtleneck, half black with icy piping and a thick blue boot, half light blue with black piping and a black boot. No shoulders. Instead of a utility belt there are thick straps, with pockets, crossing over his chest. 

Izuku swallows. It’s.. sexy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s seen. 

“COMPLETELY fireproof!” The cage is engulfed in flames. The heat radiates out to the room. There isn’t a scratch, “And will distribute residual heat to prevent your other half from icing over,” The cage is blasted with ice. It's filled with snow, but all traces of frost melt off the suit in seconds, “Light, airy, with enough pockets to store all your medical knick-knacks. The boots open up to a snowboard,” a flat panel unfolds from the soles, stretching into a board, “To help you slide across the ice.” 

Bakugo’s top is a black fitted bodysuit with half a diagonal cut across his torso and half his thigh, above which it is black and orange fishnet. The gauntlets are smaller, sleeker, a shiny black with silver rim that ends at his finger trips. 

“The gauntlets weigh less than half a kilo, and come with a dozen settings to adjust speed, strength, and frequency of your explosions,” Edna says, “The material was of the outfit was tricky, yes, darling, but I managed it. It won’t generate any friction on your body, so no accidental explosion, but the thick grooves will collect your sweat. The gloves are thick and temperature adjustable.” 

Kirishima’s was a plain red bodysuit, with stripes of black running on its sides. “This material,” Edna drawled, “Hardens as it expands from the inside.” The model blew up like baloon. The soft cloth turned into basically a brick wall, “Almost as strong as your body. You will never manage to cut it up, darling.” The model went back to its original size. The suit was plain red again. 

“And finally,” The green costume rolled in, “Midoriya! Ah, I tried to retain as much of the original design I could, dear, for your mother,” She said, “But it’s reinforced with kevlar and highly flexible, so it will simply stretch with your quirk, and not tear. And I fused a fabric similar to the gauntlet to the suit, so they’re a part of your costume, no pesky putting them on.” 

“So…” She said, sighing. “What do you think?” 

“Wow.” 

“Fuck.”

“Can I try it on? I think I’ll look hot.” 

“I like seeing my boyfriend’s chest, old woman!” 

“Um, I have a question..” Izuku said. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“What’s the.. Name of the materials?”

“You," Edna's eyes are almost bigger than her head, "want to discuss fabrics?” 

He nods. 

Ten minutes into the excited discussion where they couldn’t even discern words, everyone other than Izuku and Edna wander off. Katsuki tries on his suit, and immediately tries to blow up the mannequins, “Kirishima!” He says, “Harden up, bitch, you got this coming!” Shouto stares at the fish. They're peaceful. Momo put puts her suit on, and uses the shifting silver material to create a full sleeved armoured shirt, and makes bigger and bigger dolls, that pass through the material easily, no boob windows necessary. Eventually, Shouto gets bored and slips on his suit, blasting mountains of snow and idly skating in them. 

“HEY, I WANNA SNOWBOARD TOO!” 

“There’s more boards in the armoury, darling!” 

Two hours later, they're being dried off by massive blowers. 

“So, there’s a caveat. The payment.” 

Ah.  
  


“For payment, I will have the exclusive right to design Todoroki’s, Bakugo’s, Deku’s, Creati’s, and Headphone Jack’s costumes now and in the future in the known universe. And you all will be part of my New York show in three months.” 

“Of course!”

“Um,” Izuku said, “There are some support class students who tweak our costumes…’

“Support class? UA has a support class?”

“Uh, yes.” 

“Well, darling,” She turned on her heel and began to exit, “Tell _them_ to apply! I do need actual interns, you know!” 

The flight home is largely uneventful. "Izuku?" Shouto says, "Do you want to see something very cheesy?" 

"Sure." 

Shouto shows him the photo of a tree trunk. It has TS+MI crudely carved on it, and bound in a heart. 

Izuku giggles, and kisses him. Outside their window, New York disappears into the clouds, like a dream.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you watch the incredibles and two heroes on the same day. idgaf about timelines. unedited. unbeta'd. wrote it on one day. find me on tumblr [ here .](https://bauliya.tumblr.com)


End file.
